Absolution
by Ruaki
Summary: Suikoden IV 108th Star SPOILER Should absolution be sought even if it isn't needed?


**Title**: Absolution  
**Author name**: Ruaki  
**Author email**: ruakichan at aol dot com  
**Category**: Drama, Genso Suikoden IV  
**Spoilers**: After getting the 108th Star but before the Final Battle. 

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Gensui or its characters. They make shiny toys. I try to clean them up as best I can when I'm done with them though.

**Author's Note**: Obviously spoilers for the 108th Star, if you made it this far. (Psst, it's that guy that you shouldn't have beheaded.) This was written for those who maybe felt that the 'forgiveness' scene when you recruited Snowe was a little understated. I felt it was nice, but a little elaboration didn't seem like a bad idea, so I went with it. A little sappy, a little angsty, a little fluffy. I seriously hope that ffnet didn't screw with my formatting like it usually likes to. (I'm upset that they don't allow double dashes.)

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He slipped onto a barstool next to me and I only stared harder at the counter. When the blonde barkeep asked him about his drink, I rolled my glass around in my hands nervously. As he ordered a glass of milk in that quiet voice of his, I finally dared to glance at him from the corner of my eye.

His face was schooled into its usual serious expression, the one I remember so clearly from our childhood, but his eyes bore a depth that I had never seen before. Well, so much had happened during the months we've been apart, so it's only natural that we would change. What things did I miss, I wonder? An exile, a rebel, a pirate, a leader... He was no longer a servant or a trainee or even a knight, and I realized that while I had sunk into a yawning abyss he had risen to the very heights I had once aspired to.

But he always was the strong one, never faltering as he moved forward. A slight tinge of resentment coated my tongue; I drank quickly from my glass to wash it away.

Receiving his milk with a quiet sound of gratitude, he took a sip and glanced at me. I quickly averted my eyes and I could feel a wall there between us. Sturdy and high, it defined our boundaries and ostracized us from each other. The idea of that hurt, but I wasn't strong enough to tackle it. I had helped put it there, after all, and it was hard to pull something down that you had originally built up.

Separated by the wall, we sat with our own thoughts as the pretty woman behind the counter washed glasses and hummed to herself. The night was late so the saloon was quiet save for that tuneless song, the chink of glass, and running water. The silence was somehow louder than that, uncomfortable and aching; I had come here because I couldn't stand the silence in my head, but the silence here-with _him_ here-was even more oppressive.

"Couldn't sleep?"

For a moment, it didn't register that he was speaking to me, but I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face through that wall. My shoulders hunched as I tried to hide.

"Me neither," he said quietly as if I had replied.

Silence once more. I didn't know what to say. It seemed too hard and I was too ashamed.

"How are you feeling?" he tried again, still staring at me.

I wished he would stop staring at me. Maybe if I answered him, he'd quit.

"Pass-" My voice cracked and I could feel my heart beating staccato in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "...passable." I could still feel his stare. Was he waiting for more information? "Jango and Brec are hard taskmasters, and sometimes I think they like to pick on me... but I don't mind the work. I'm alive." I hesitated, steeling myself, and glanced at him. "I... can't ask for more than that."

His gaze didn't relent. His face was still serious and closed. "Drama queen." The statement had an almost... fond tone to it.

"Wh-what?" I was taken aback. The words were teasing rather than insulting.

He shook his head slightly and continued his study of me. I could feel heat warming my face. What did he mean 'drama queen'? What I had done was serious, didn't he realize that? How can he just dismiss it like it was nothing? I had been lucky that he had been merciful, sparing me even until the very end. Even now he had given me a place to stay when I had no where else to go. There was no drama here; only tragedy and-

"Why are you still wearing that?"

I blinked at him as my thoughts derailed. I looked down at my clothes, threadbare and stained, a little small in size and nothing like what I used to wear. "This?" I plucked at the thin fabric of my shirt in confusion.

"Didn't Mr. Desmond give you something to wear?"

"This is fine," I said softly, folding my hands on the bar, gazing at them. They were marked with red weals from swinging and scuttling among the rigging. I hadn't exaggerated; Brec was a stern bo'sun, and Jango was no better. But I hadn't lied either; I really didn't mind. I went to bed hurting every night, but it made me feel alive. Blessed. "It's all I have. It seems... appropriate."

"Yeah, I guess so, being a deckhand and all..." He finally looked away to sip at his drink, and I was grateful.

However, it was only a short reprieve, and those eyes settled on me again, piercing another hole through that wall. I could feel them, just feel them, crawling over every inch of me exposed in the dim light of the saloon, before settling on my face. Just... sitting there. Observing. There was no hate and there was no anger, but nor was there friendship or acceptance. Just nothing but the intensity of being _there_. Waiting.

And then I heard it. It was a silent whisper, but it crashed on my ears as his eyes burrowed under my skin. 'Here I am,' those blue irises seemed to say. 'Here I am and I won't go away.'

What did he want me to do? I didn't understand. Didn't he see that wall?

"You're sunburned," he said suddenly and poked my cheek for further emphasis. I flinched away in reflex.

"I've only been roasting in the sun for the last week or more," I muttered without thinking, tentatively touching my sore skin. The new flesh exposed from advanced peeling was also pink. I wasn't used to being out in the sun this much.

Shaking his head as if I misunderstood his statement, he looked down at his glass with a gentle expression in his eyes. "It just reminds me."

My brows furrowed in confusion. Reminds him?

He laughed then, a soft little chuckle. It sounded foreign coming from him-he rarely shared his laughter-but it disarmed me with its pleasant sound. "You know... of when you'd skip your studies and I'd shirk my chores, just so we could go play with our swords or wander around the wharf looking for treasure."

I ran the tip of my finger in a pool of water left by my sweating glass, tracing patterns onto the wood. "...Yeah, I know." Memories slipped into my thoughts, pictures of a carefree childhood filled with pranks and adventure that only the young could appreciate. While he always did his duties without question, I hated my studies and governess, so I looked for any opportunity to ditch. I shortly found out that was no fun playing hooky by myself, so I persuaded my father's ward to join me. I think that's when we became close friends-and I think that's when I took for granted that he'd always follow me, no matter what.

Lifting his eyes, he shared that gentle look with me, and I watched the hole in the wall widen. "Well, I remember how your father would always find out what we were doing because you'd be sunburned."

Ah yes, Father never did appreciate my blatant disregard for the fine education he was providing me. He demonstrated that many times after catching us. "But that didn't stop us, did it?" I dared to grin at him. "The pain and the peeling were a lot more punishment than any chastisement Father would come up with, anyway."

"Red as a lobster. It's an interesting look."

"I seem to recall you enjoying a distinct pleasure in picking at my wounds."

"I'd hardly call them wounds, but something like that." There was an impish quality to his words that set off bells in my head.

I shot him a warning glare-don't you dare-in pure reaction, as if we were once more friends sharing in mirth and teasing, as if nothing had happened between us, as if I hadn't chosen duty and pride over friendship and faith. As if I hadn't betrayed him.

Abruptly, my glare died and I drew away. This was not right. How could he just forget so easily? Why wasn't he angry?

Did I want him to be angry? Was I afraid of being forgiven? Was I just ashamed? (Self-crucifying martyr... Didn't really learn humility after all, did you, Snowe? Too proud to allow yourself to be forgiven? Wretched, that's what you are.)

The wall grew higher, thicker. The hole shrunk, disappeared.

He noticed the change in atmosphere and drew away as well, exhaling softly. "Snowe-"

"I'm sorry." I really did mean it. It was the only thing I could say but it seemed so pathetic to my ears. I had nothing to prove. There were no excuses this time. No hurt arm. No 'for the greater good.' (Although he never asked for any.) I could only apologize and look back and berate myself for being a fool.

He exhaled again, the sound of a man trying to retain his patience. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to have changed his mind. I guess now he felt it was too early to surmount that wall. Maybe he realized he couldn't break it. Maybe he'd leave me alone.

Did I want that?

"Tomorrow," he began once more, "we're heading north of Razril under the direction of Miss Rene."

Captain of his own ship, but he still had the habit of treating everyone equally. He grew up as a servant and ward in my household, but paid no attention to rank. Everyone was to be treated with respect and courtesy in his eyes. We became friends because of that. I was always Snowe to him.

I tried to do the same with him, but I had my limits. We weren't equals in my eyes. Not then. Maybe not now, although in a wholly different way.

"I'm having problems with the exploration party," he continued, scratching a cheek. "Ted's been complaining about Aldo, and after that sleeping arrangement incident, it's starting to become a hindrance."

I frowned slightly, trying to put faces to the names, but not really knowing the people he was referring to. There were so many on this ship who had chosen to follow him. It had quite surprised me; I left him a note expressing my admiration yesterday. I doubt he had read it yet-the box outside his room was stuffed full of papers from everyone on the ship. But I was proud of him. He became so much... just like Commander Glen thought he would. The Commander would be proud too, if he were here. (Maybe he is.)

"So I had to ask Aldo to stay behind and now I'm short a member." He paused, looking at me. "Feel like treasure hunting like we used to?"

My head shot up so quickly that I was sure I had sprained something. "What?" I knew I was gaping-it was almost funny. I must have heard wrong.

And again, that intense gaze pierced me, although its edge was dulled by the wall. "I would like your help, Snowe." His tone was quiet, his words firm. No hesitation in that statement. It sounded like...

It sounded like he meant it.

"Mr. Shiramine pulled up something you could use," he quickly added with a faint sliver of uncertainty when I failed to say anything. "Mr. Phil cleaned it and patched it up. I also asked Miss Adrienne to hone and retool your sword and make some armour, and it's all been delivered to your quarters, so it's not like you'll be unprepared or anything..." He trailed off. He had noticed my expression. It must've been horrible.

I knew I was feeling that way.

My breath hitched and any tenuous control I might've had over my emotions was gone. His words... he seriously believed that I hesitated because of something as superficial as that?

"Sometimes... I really hate you..." I couldn't let myself cry. Oh no. Through all of this, I had not allowed myself to cry, not once. I had to keep some sort of dignity-any sort-since I had nothing else... Goodness, I was such a wreck. I wanted to laugh. It hurt everywhere. Drama queen, self-crucifying martyr, it didn't matter if I was really any of those things. It _hurt_. "How can you say something like that...?"

His brows furrowed in bemusement. "Why shouldn't I? I mean-"

"Don't you remember what I did?" I wanted to scream. I managed not to.

"Well, yeah, but-"

The urge to cry burned into the urge to smack some sense into him. "How do you know I won't do something stupid again?"

And then his lips quirked, brows upraising a little into that half-smile he would indulge in on the rarest occasion. "I've been with you long enough to know that you're capable of some fairly stupid things, so it's pretty good in all likelihood. I'm not worried."

I made a face at him; I couldn't help it. It wasn't the answer I had been expecting. "I... deserve that, I guess..." Everything deflated out of me.

"But," he added, his voice softening, "I've also been standing by you long enough to know the expectations everyone was placing on you. 'Master Snowe, our future Commander. Master Snowe, heir to the Vingerhut legacy. Master Snowe, Razril's pride and joy. Master Snowe, future hero of the Gaien Knights.'" He paused, shaking his head. "I kind of understand now. So I can't blame you for what's already past."

I stared at him dumbly, my throat locked tight. (Standing by me.) Was I so busy looking ahead I never noticed?

His expression turned wry-I don't think I've ever seen so many expressions on his face before tonight-and he tugged at the hem of his left glove nervously. "It's a lot of pressure, bearing everyone's hopes and dreams."

At those words, my hands suddenly clenched over the wood, fingernails scraping at the smooth finish as I swung my head away. Everything which had seeped out of me was sucked back in again. "You were always such a do-gooder." My voice was tight. Too tight. The words squeezed out painfully. "You could never play the villain, even if you were doing what you personally believed was right. So everyone always pushes you around, makes you serve their meals or run their errands. Even now you are nothing but a figurehead to this army just because you have that... that _thing_, and yet everyone loves you for it."

Silence. Familiar, hated silence. The echo of my words seemed to drown in it, bearing all my frustration, my anger, my resentment, and my regret.

I squeezed shut my burning eyes. "But I guess that makes you stronger, because you gave up yourself for everyone else. For _their_ hopes and dreams."

"And for my friends' hopes and dreams." He sounded thoughtful, but not on his own behalf. "But I don't think it makes me strong or right or special."

"What does it make you?" I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. It wasn't directed at him-the wall bounced it back at me. My emotions were flying everywhere and I couldn't handle it any longer. I didn't understand. I just didn't. I was such a wreck; maybe they should've left me out there with the sun frying my brains and the fish nibbling at my feet.

He shrugged, unperturbed. "Just someone with something to live for. Everyone has that, even if they don't realize it."

My shoulders slumped. His words... they stung fiercely. Did I even know what was right anymore? After all, what did I exist for? My family? I lost all right to bear my family name when I turned traitor to the people that trusted in it. My country? I was turned away and exiled, even by the country I tried to ally with. My friends?

"You know..." My voice sounded too small to my ears, defeated. Like when they had found me adrift, baked and half-starved, clinging to life for some unconscious purpose or reason. "I would have killed you right from the start. If our positions were reversed... I would have."

"I know."

What did I live for now? "I wouldn't have tried to understand... you were a murderer and a pirate and a rebel in my eyes... I believed in that more than in you."

"I know."

I didn't understand at all. "I wouldn't have forgiven you. No kindness or clemency."

"I know."

I gathered the courage to look at him then and he just looked back. 'Here I am,' his eyes said. 'And I'm waiting for you.'

"You're impossible." And stubborn. That wall was so high, didn't he see? (But you believe in me, don't you? You'll wait and wait and wait on the other side because you know only I can break that wall. And you believe I can do it. Because that's the way you are and that's how you'll always be and sometimes I really hate you for it.)

Another half-smile flickered across his face as he stood. "So I'll see you on deck in the morning?"

(Still, I want to do it. Because sometimes I don't hate you and sometimes I might even admire you.)

"I'll be there." I met his gaze and smiled faintly, shyly.

And even when he was gone, it still felt like he was here. Yet the world didn't seem so lonely or so harsh or so spiteful-all because the person I had wronged the most could still accept me, trust me, and believe in me. Believe in that strength which I didn't have, in those dreams that I had longed to fulfill but couldn't. I didn't understand, but then, he always was the strong one.

That morning, he was waiting for me as he said he would and the wall was only a crumbling ruin.

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I... really like Snowe. A lot. I know I'm in the minority here, but I do like him-he is my favorite in the game, along with Ted, of course (Gensui1 represent!). Anyway, I find him to be a very realistic, 'human' character, and I was glad to see that he was one of the few in the game to be able to enjoy a little character development. Even if the majority of it wasn't positive...

Thank you for reading. CC welcomed, as always.


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